I saw her in the square. She was alone, but somehow seemed like she belonged, even more so than her peers who huddled together in separate groups as night fell. Her thin frame hid beneath the long skirt and the draped sweater that she wore so effortlessly. Her short curly hair framed her soft face. She lit up a cigarette- closing her eyes as she inhaled deeply then released a puff of smoke briskly from her mouth.

Suddenly, an old man approached her. From the steps of the fountain, I tried to listen in, as their conversation looked captivating. But to no avail- I don’t speak their language. I could only watch her expression waver between puzzlement, concern, and amusement. As the old man hobbled off, her eyes locked with mine. She raised her eyebrows quickly, and I could only pretend to sympathize. Promptly, I looked down at my feet.


2 thoughts on “Intrigue

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